Rare Opportunities
by Josephine Stone
Summary: When Snape offered Draco the chance of a lifetime, Draco threw it away. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. & People never come back from the dead. So when Harry moves into the flat next to Malfoy's, two years after he supposably died in the war, Harry wasn't about to let him get away without answering a few questions.
1. Chapter 1

When Draco had failed to kill Dumbledore, Snape took him to his Muggle house. He told him that he had all the time in the world to make a decision on what he wanted to do, but that _he_ had to be the one to make the decision.

'In a person's life,' Snape said, 'there are rarely ever opportunities like this.'

He was too worn and weary to say anything. He'd never been allowed to make decisions for himself before; the idea of it alone was daunting, even if he weren't as lost as he was right then.

'No one has to know that you are alive,' Snape continued. 'I'll bring you food, and you can stay here—you'll be safe here—as long as you need.'

It was the best gift anyone had ever given him, and probably the last thing Snape had the power to. And just like he had all his life up until then, he threw it all away. He said he didn't want to think about it, didn't want to sleep on it, he said, 'I want to go home.'

#

As Draco sat wandless and stared at the half collapsed castle from inside Aberforth's hut, he thought about how there was rarely ever a chance like this. How he'd thought about how he regretted that he hadn't given himself a night, a day, a week to think about what he wanted for once. All he'd thought about where his parents were and getting back to them as quickly as possible. But they were adults and they were fine without him, and he was their child, and they'd control him for however long he was around them.

He loved them, and he'd never have the strength to go against their wishes in front of them.

All in all, running away then—even though he didn't have the resources he would have had if he'd taken Snape's offer—was the coward's way out again. He knew he couldn't stand up to his parents. Before he hadn't thought he'd ever want to leave them or ever go against their wants for him. Whatever they had wanted he did as well.

He'd never be able to find Snape's house again. If it was as safe as Snape made it seem, it was probably hidden by magic somehow. So many people had died that day that it would take nothing for people to assume he was one of them. They'd never find Crabbe's body and the same could be true of Draco's. Any number of things could have happened to him, and the last people to see him weren't friends of his parents anyway.

They'd find his mother's wand lying around somewhere from when he was last attacked and lost it before he ran out to the perimeter. He could still hear the fighting going on, but he knew nothing he did then would matter.

No wand, no talent for fighting, no one trusting him on either side.

It was pointless.

He walked towards Hogsmeade because it was the only place he would be able to travel from. He stayed on the edges of town and behind the buildings because he didn't want to be seen. It only took a quarter of an hour before he had been.

Aberforth got him inside and without any discussion of who Draco was, and only a brief one of whom Aberforth was, seemed to know everything about him. He fed him and got a small bag together of more food to take with him.

'I wouldn't advise staying here,' Aberforth said. 'It's too dangerous. I'd suggest the Leaky—and getting into Muggle London as quick as possible. Keep your school uniform but ditch the robes. You might be a bit overdressed for some areas, but you'll blend in well enough without them. Lots of places to hide there, easy place to find transportation to wherever you want.'

As long as that place wasn't home and that he was offering Draco a chance of a lifetime were left unsaid but known.

This time Draco took it.

#

Draco had never been in Muggle London before. He had never even been to the Leaky Cauldron, before, but he had heard of it and knew where it was. Not that he needed that knowledge as he Flooed right into the pub.

He'd never been anywhere Muggle unless he counted Snape's house, which on the inside was distinctly not Muggle. He left the Floo and went straight to the front door without making eye contact with the few people in the pub. The man behind the bar didn't even look up from his newspaper. Draco wondered if he was even aware that there was a battle going on at Hogwarts.

Draco walked the streets just looking around him.

He'd heard about cars, but seeing them was something completely different. They were terrifying, and Draco stayed on the sidewalk as long as possible.

With no destination, Draco decided that London was just as good as anywhere else. Since he didn't have any money, he really never had much of a choice. Plus, London was a huge city, so even if someone did look for him there—without a trace on him—they'd have a hard with it. He'd stick out more in a small town. The people past him without much as a glance. He felt safe being unnoticed in the crowd. Safer than he had in a long time.

He spent the first day just watching the people around him. Blending in as best he could. Once he'd gone around the same block twice, he'd move on to a new one finally crossing his first road with cars on with a group of people. He was slowly mapping out the area with his feet. He liked the idea until night fell.

That first night, he didn't sleep.

Every once in awhile, he stop in a shop doorway to rest. But he never felt safe in them for long and once he began seeing them occupied by other Muggles, most likely also homeless like him, he didn't feel safe mapping out the area around him anymore.

It was stupid and dangerous to walk so close to the Leaky Cauldron. He'd find himself on the block staring at it again, watching the people pass it by mostly. Every time the door opened to let someone in or out, Draco was filled with fear. He needed to stay away.

By morning he found a park. He put his bag under his head and fell asleep for a few hours.

He was still tired when he woke up, but he couldn't stick around for long. Even though he didn't see anyone that might cause him trouble yet, he knew instinctively that he couldn't stay out in the opened too long.

The second day, Draco figured out who the Hit Wizards were. Well, the Muggle version of them anyway. They wore blue, and they walked the streets as well. He saw one asking a man for an "ID", and though they were low on his list of people to worry about, he knew he had to stick clear of them. When Draco had walked the same block more than once, he realised he was also noticed by them. He gave Draco a funny look.

Draco ducked into a shop. The man didn't follow him in.

When he entered, two girls were in the shop that was otherwise empty. One by the till and the other organising clothing onto a rack. They both looked him up and down and then shared a look with each other.

Trying to make it seem as though he had a reason to be there, he looked for a section of clothing that might actually be for himself. He knew nothing about Muggle clothing and couldn't tell the difference between the girls and boys clothing at first glance. All around him were t-shirts. Draco had seen Muggleborns wear them at school and in Hogsmeade. As he scanned the pictures on them, Draco saw that some of them had rainbows and bright pink.

Pink wasn't a popular colour with wizards in general, and the only person he'd seen wear it were Muggleborn girls—Granger to the Yule Ball and Brown often from her jumpers to her hair accessories. So Draco determined that he was not in the right section and then looked up to see if he could find the boys' section on his own, only then he met the girl at the till's eyes. The shop could be girls only, which would explain why they both gave him such a funny look when he came in.

'You lost?' the girl at the till asked in an accent Draco had never heard before, and as such he could barely make out what she was asking.

Draco's mouth hung opened for a moment and then he said, 'I'm looking for something . . . for my girlfriend.'

The girl laughed then, and Draco wondered if he was sorely mistaken about only girls wearing pink.

The other girl, the clothing arranging girl said, 'Imogen!'

'What?'

And then to Draco she said, 'Ignore her.' Walking toward Draco, she asked, 'Do you know what your girl likes?'

Imogen snorted. 'Come on, you know he was lying about having a girlfriend.'

Draco glared at the girl. He was obviously lying about shopping for his girlfriend there, but that didn't mean he was so undesirable that he didn't have a girlfriend at all.

'Well,' the other girl said, ignoring Imogen. 'If you need any help, my name is Willow, and I'll be right here.'

'We ain't that kind of shop _Willow_ ,' Imogen said rolling her eyes. 'Do you see smiling kids or men's abs along our walls?'

Draco saw mostly black, and there were posters, but no one was smiling in them.

'She's just trying to talk you up because she thinks you're cute,' Imogen said, looking at Draco again. 'And hoping you're still far enough in the closest to kiss her, because as I said: we all know you ain't got no girlfriend.'

'You can't tell that just by looking at me.' His answer made Willow smile, but Imogen smirked.

'I can tell a lot of things just by looking at you—' Imogen came around the counter to stand in front of him. She was hardly wearing anything at all, but it all had holes or rips that Draco thought might actually have been there on purpose. 'But any doubt I had is now gone—you're looking more at the holes in my clothes than my tits. Meaning tits aren't your thing, but that's not why I said that. You're far from home, love. And from the fine clothes you are wearing and how dishevelled you are, tells me, you either ran away from home or were kicked out.

'And you come from money, so there are only so many reasons that either of those things happened. You don't have the look of a druggie, so clearly—you're gay.'

'Yeah,' Willow said sarcastically, 'You're a regular Sherlock Holmes.'

Draco didn't say anything to that but swallowed a lump in his throat. She was very close to right.

'I'm right, aren't I?'

There was no point in trying to explain the truth, so Draco nodded.

Willow gasped and came up beside them, looking for a moment like she was going to give Draco a hug until Imogen gave her a look.

'Where're you staying, love?' Imogen asked, and when Draco obviously had no answer to that she swore and headed back behind the counter. She grabbed something and seemed to be writing on it as Willow began again.

'You can stay with us.'

'You . . . live together?' Draco couldn't imagine it as they seemed to hate each other.

'Yeah, upstairs. I own this place.' Imogen was back again, shoving the paper into Willow's hands. 'Find him some less noticeable clothes and write down the codes so I can write it off and order more. Then show him around and start training him in the back. We have a lot of back stock he could go through once he knows what to do with it all.'

Draco couldn't imagine anything in the shop being less noticeable than what he was already wearing, but he followed as Willow's face lit up at the prospect of her task.

All Draco could force himself to say was, 'Why? Why are you doing this for me?'

Because she was very clearly saving him from the street, even if she was setting him up to work for her. It was the middle of a weekday, but he couldn't imagine the place ever being busy enough that she needed extra help.

'Oh, love. You'd be eaten alive out there. Someone as clueless and good looking as you? You'd be on your knees in an alley within a week. And I just can't watch that happen. Besides, no one wants to work at minimum wage forever; we have a high turnover, and I'm always looking for more help.'

#

The upstairs flat was small, but Draco didn't complain. He didn't complain about the weird food or the smells or the drunk people who hollered at night outside. He was just glad not to be out there with them.

He'd been wrong about the amount of work there'd be for him. The shop was packed with kids on the weekends, and Imogen wasn't the most organised person. Lucky for her Draco was. He completely reorganised her back room in the first month he was there. After she had brought him out on the floor, Imogen taught him all about Muggle money.

'You've never seen _money_?'

Draco shrugged. 'My parents took care of all of that for me.' Which was true. His parents didn't just give him money growing up. If he wanted something, he asked them and they decided whether or not they'd get it for him. He did know all about money from his own world, though. It didn't take long to learn the numbers, and he got used to counting it quickly.

He quickly felt at home with them. They just as much runaways as he was only they were a few years older, and Imogen wasn't so much a runaway as an abandoned by her mother at fifteen. She'd met a man and just up and left Imogen. With only a couple of weeks left before rent was due, she did the only sensible thing she could think to do: she looked for a job. Imogen might not have been very organized, but she was very good with money.

Willow was a runaway. She'd fought with her mom most her life and then it just blew up one day, and she left. She hoped to find her father in London, but never located him. Either her mother was lying about who he was, or he'd disappeared. No one from the areas her mother mentioned knowing him had ever heard of him. Her mother didn't bother to find her, and she had no desire to see her again either.

Draco didn't share his story with them. They thought they already knew it, but really without omitting all the most important parts—which he'd have no choice but to do—he no real reason to run away.

He had loved his parents. Loved them so much he couldn't stand to see the disappointment in their eyes every time they looked at him.

He was gay. Only they didn't care. It wasn't a negative thing to be in his world. But it fit for their world, so he let them believe it.

For the first time in his life, he could be himself. With their own past, Willow and Imogen were very non-judgemental. Things he said at home that caused outrage from his own peers, they laughed at. That had been what he'd been after, even without knowing it. The chance to be himself. The chance to figure out who that even was without the weight of his name hanging over him.

'Oh, love,' Draco said. 'Tell me who did that to your hair so we can boycott them; it is just sad.'

'It's horrible, isn't it?' The girl laughed. 'Can you believe that witch still charged me?'

Draco still flinched when someone said that. Some of the younger customers would use witch to keep themselves from having to say _bitch_. He tried not to react to the word because it brought on questions he didn't have the answer to.

'Hey,' a deep voice said as a man came up from behind her. 'Watch your language.'

'I said witch,' she said with an attitude and rolled her eyes. 'My brother,' she told Draco.

'Well, hello brother.' Draco hadn't meant to flirt, but damn it he'd spent too much time around Willow and was picking up her habits, and the man was gorgeous: a few inches taller than Draco with dark brown hair and eyes to match which widened at Draco's suggestive tone. His sister laughed at it, but then her expression change to shock when he held out his hand to Draco, said his name was Connor and asked Draco for his name in return.

Hesitantly, Draco took it. It would have been rude not to, but Draco wasn't sure if he was ready to explore that part himself yet.

Draco caught Willow giving him a thumbs up from the register and mouthed, 'go with the flow.'

That was always her advice, and it made him smile, maybe it was Connor's smile that was making him smile. Either way, going with the flow was all he'd been able _to_ do since he ran away. So within five minutes, he can Connor's number and appointment—the three of them—for Draco to fix his sister's horrible bleach job.

Luckily, because of Pansy, Draco actually did know how to fix it, even without magic.


	2. Chapter 2

'You know,' Ron said in between taking bites of his sandwich. 'Ginny's flat is empty most of the year. I'm sure she wouldn't mind a roommate.'

Harry shared an exasperated look with Hermione. 'She already has a roommate: Luna. Sorry, mate, but we're not getting back together.'

'It was worth a shot.'

'I'll find a place, don't worry. There are plenty of flats in London.' There was always Grimmauld Place if he found nothing he liked, but he really didn't want to live there. It brought back too many memories. Besides, he wanted a fresh start. He'd never be able just to be himself without anyone's preconceived notions about him getting in the way. As a child, he was either picked on or avoided because of Dudley, and at Hogwarts, he was always the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry didn't need much, and he quickly found a not too expensive studio close to the tube. The place was completely Muggle, and Harry loved the idea of blending in with the people around him.

Everyone's eyes still drifted to his scar, but it wasn't the same with Muggles.  
They didn't gape at him, start to cry, or shake his hand. They might ask how it happened, but even that was rare.

Harry was quietly settling in and getting used to going back and forth between the Magical and Muggle world, so when Malfoy suddenly fell back into his life it wasn't immediately quite alarming. Harry almost didn't notice. He saw his wizard friends every day and his Muggle ones every day. So when Malfoy came out of the flat next to his as Harry put his key in the door, he just nodded a greeting and said,

'Hey, Malfoy.' He was halfway in the door before he stopped and leaned back into the hallway. 'Malfoy?'

'Potter.' Malfoy looked just as surprised, if not terrified to see him.

'What are you doing here?'

'I . . . live here,' Malfoy said it as if he wasn't sure that was the right answer.

'How?'

'With my boyfriend.' Malfoy crossed his arms. 'But I have a job and pay half.'

Harry hadn't even thought about how he was paying for it. Malfoy had always had money, but then, of course, he wouldn't without his parents. His parents who thought he'd died.

'Speaking of which, I need to get to work. So if you'll excuse me.' Malfoy brushed passed him and after a moment Harry followed him.

'Where do you work?'

'That is none of your business.' But Malfoy didn't slow down, and Harry didn't stop following him, so it would only be a matter of time before Harry found out.

'Where have you been?'

'Also, none of your business.'

'Malfoy, it's been two years.'

'I am aware of that. Go away and quit following me.'

'No, you can't just—' Harry didn't know what to say. 'Walk away from me.'

'I can, and I am. Now stop following me.' Malfoy didn't look back as he hurried down the Muggle street. Malfoy on a Muggle street! Harry never thought to imagine the day. He never thought to imagine that Malfoy was alive even.

'No!' Harry hurried up to walk with him, even though Malfoy was still trying to ignore his presence. 'You're going to talk to me. Where have you been? What have you been doing? Why'd you run away?' Because it suddenly occurred to Harry that he must have run away; it was the only explanation.

Malfoy stopped and spun to face Harry who ran into him. Harry backed off and saw that Malfoy was blushing, but quickly regained control of himself.

'It is none of your business. We are not friends. We never were. Unless you have an official reason to be following me—Leave. Me. Alone.'

'Official? I do have an official reason to be following you,' Harry said. 'I'm a Solicitor, and you have unfinished business to attend to at home.'

Then Malfoy ran, which Harry hadn't expected, but Harry was quick on his heels. He let Malfoy think he got away, and after he had gone inside a shop, Harry waited a couple of minutes and entered it himself. Malfoy was at the till and froze when he saw Harry come in.

There were two girls arranging clothes. One of them looked about to greet him but stopped when she saw the look he was giving Malfoy and how Malfoy was steady ignoring him.

'So this is where you work, huh?' Then Harry saw what Malfoy was wearing and that his clothes had clearly come from the shop they were in. 'What _are_ you wearing?'

One of the girls laughed, but Malfoy ignored him.

'There are a lot of people who would like to see you.'

Malfoy scoffed. 'Like who?'

'Like your mother.'

Everyone froze. Harry with his arms across his chests. The two girls with the clothes they were hanging left dangling in the air. Malfoy with the money he was sorting into the drawer clenched tightly between his fingers. The girls were wide-eyed and stared at Harry; they obviously thought Malfoy's parents were dead or at the very least had no interest in seeing him.

'I could tell her at tea on Sunday.'

'Why would you have tea with my mother?'

'I don't know,' Harry said, gritting his teeth. 'Maybe because my parents are dead, and she thinks that her only son is.'

If the girls were surprised before, they were shocked then.

'Well,' Malfoy said as he finished sorting the money and slammed the till closed, 'I'm glad she found herself an adequate replacement so quickly.'

They stood there glaring at each other for a moment.

'Whoa.' One of the girls started to fan herself and said to the other one, 'Someone turn on the air conditioner, it's getting hot in here.' The other girl began to glare at Malfoy.

Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead. 'I'm not a replacement.'

'What "official" business do you have then, if not to have me arrested?'

'We should talk,' Harry started gently.

'Then talk.'

'I meant someplace private.'

'I'm not going anywhere with you,' Malfoy said. 'Whatever you have to say, you can say here.'

'Your father died,' Harry said. 'As the last heir of the Malfoy family, you need to either take over the estate or sign it over to your mother.'

#

Harry escorted Malfoy through the Ministry.

Anyone coming back from the dead was bound to cause a stir, but that it was Malfoy made it that much more intriguing. He'd disappeared in the middle of the Battle of Hogwarts. Everyone assumed he was dead even though his body had never been found. There were no charges against him, but he couldn't have known that when he'd run. Still many people would believe he'd have no reason to run.

What bothered Harry the most was the reason Malfoy accompanied him. He came to sign the fortune over to his mother. Not to take it over himself with a clean slate. Not to see his mother, even. Just to give it to her. He asked if it was possible for her not to be told. Let her know the money was hers through some loophole with his death passing it to her.

'That's not possible without a body, and she knows the laws well enough not to be fooled by that.'

Malfoy swallowed and nodded but didn't say anything else about it. He agreed to go when Harry said that Malfoy knew official documents like that weren't allowed outside of the Ministry. He was stalling. Harry could tell he didn't want to go, and it confused him. Harry thought he should be thrilled to leave the Muggle world and go home. It could not have been easy for him in the Muggle world. Working as a clerk in a clothing shop. It probably took his whole pay to afford half the rent of his flat.

His boyfriend must be lying to him about how much it costs. There was no way Draco was paying half of everything.

Yet, he wanted to stay. He didn't want to go home.

Everyone stared as they walked past. Word would get back to his mother. There was no way around that. It would probably be on the front page of the _Prophet_ the next morning.

Harry walked him into the legal department and waited with them as they gathered the parchments and whispered to each other as if Harry and Malfoy weren't right there. Then he watched as Malfoy signed on the dotted line and Harry took him back out to the street. Malfoy nodded his goodbye and walked away as if he had just left all his weight behind him on Harry's shoulders.

To Harry it felt as if he had.

#

Harry had expected Narcissa to be the worst to drop the news to. But, like Harry had expected, the news had reached her before he came by for tea that Sunday, and though she did bring it up she didn't ask Harry for any details apart from:

'Does he want to come home?'

'He doesn't seem to,' Harry said.

She nodded sadly and brushed her hands together in a "well, that is that" matter and they moved on as if the subject didn't exist. Except it did. And it hung in the air choking Harry because he couldn't understand how Malfoy could do that to her. Just leave her thinking he was dead for years and not coming running back the moment he knew it was safe to.

Narcissa was his mother. Malfoy should want to see her. It just didn't sit right with Harry.

But it was Pansy who was the worst. Partly because her presence in his life was sudden and unexpected, and partly because she refused to go away to the point of following him to his flat. Harry didn't tell her that he ran into Malfoy because they'd become neighbours. He figured Malfoy could deal with that when he saw her because they would run into each other at the rate that Pansy was stalking Harry. Which was probably her plan all along.

They were in the lift and Pansy was complaining about how slow it was.

'Is this thing even moving?'

'Yes,' Harry said. 'Muggles, unlike wizards, like their technology to be unnoticeable. It's moving, but it is meant to feel like it isn't.' It only going one direction probably helped with that.

'Well, it just seems like a waste of time.'

The door opened, and they stepped out to see Malfoy and Connor in the hallway. At least, Harry assumed it was Connor; he'd yet to meet him, the way Malfoy was wrapped around him. Both Pansy and Harry stood in the lift unable to move as the door closed on them again.

'Okay,' Pansy said, 'it's alright. Just breathe. You can do this.'

'Are you talking to yourself or me?'

'Was it encouraging for you?'

'A bit.'

'Let's pretend it was for you then.'

For the first time they shared a smile, and then the doors opened again. That time because Malfoy and Connor had stopped kissing and were waiting for the lift. Malfoy's eyes went wide when he saw the two of them standing there, and Pansy didn't waste a second before she began ranting at him.

'Draco Malfoy you selfish, insensitive, prick! How could you—How dare you do that to us?' When Pansy began to swing at Malfoy, Harry decided to step in. He grabbed her arms and pulled her back.

'That's enough, Pansy. I hardly think it's news to you that Malfoy's a prick.'

'To you maybe,' she said to Harry, but then looked back to Draco. 'But to me? To your mother? How could you let us think you were dead?' When Pansy lifted her arms again, Harry grabbed her waist and spun her around putting himself between her and Malfoy.

'Calm down, Pansy. Shouldn't you be happy he is alive?'

'You could have warned me, Potter,' Malfoy said.

'Hey, she followed me,' Harry said at the same time that Pansy said, 'I followed him.'

And then Connor laughed.

Everyone stopped and stared at him in shock as he tried to get control over himself. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' he said. 'It's just you're all just so adorable.'

Malfoy glared at him, and Harry wondered if he called Malfoy adorable often. He couldn't imagine Malfoy taking kindly to that, except—well, he had seen the way they were a few moments before in the hallway.

'And who is this?' Pansy asked in a bit more of a friendly tone, but there was still an edge to her voice.

'Connor.' He held his hand out to Pansy.

'Pansy Parkinson.' She shook Connor's hand, and from the wince Harry gathered it was a bit too harshly. 'Draco's, at one time, best friend.'

Then Connor turned to Harry, and a bit nervously Harry shook his hand.

'Um, your neighbour.' Harry nodded to his flat's door that was just behind them then. 'Draco's ex . . . rival?'

Malfoy snorted at that.

'Uh, Harry Potter.'

'Oh?' Connor's eyes widened. ' _The_ Harry Potter. Although the rival part I wasn't aware of.'

Everyone froze in shock, and Pansy and Harry shared a look.

Connor laughed and then asked, 'Did I say something wrong?'

'He didn't mean it like _that_ ,' Malfoy hissed, and then red spread across his cheeks as he explained, 'I told him about running into you is all.'

Connor gave Malfoy a look that suggested he mentioned Harry more often than that.

'We were on our way out,' Malfoy reminded everyone.

'Right, well, I hope you don't mind company then, because I'm not letting you out of my sight until I get some answers, Draco.'

'She can join us,' Connor said. 'It'd be nice to meet some of your friends. Would you like to join us, Harry?'

'No!' Malfoy and Harry said at the same time.

Harry forced a laugh and inched around the group towards his door. 'I just have work to do and need to get home. You have a good night.' He waved them off as he got his door opened, and as he shut it behind him he heard Pansy whisper to Malfoy in a questioning tone, '"the" Harry Potter?'

#

For Harry the matter should have been finished. There were days between when he saw Malfoy in the hallway at their building, and they didn't stop to chat. Pansy was there regularly. Harry figured she'd deal with getting Malfoy back into his family home. Of course, Malfoy was stubborn which meant it wasn't over for Harry as Pansy came to bang on his door in the middle of the night.

'How could he not want to come home?' was how she greeted him when he answered the door, half awake and dishevelled from sleep.

After seeing the tears running down her face, Harry sighed. He held his door opened for her and gestured her to come inside.

'I mean, it's _home_.' she continued as she came to plop down on his sofa.

'I don't know.' Harry had tried not to dwell on it himself. He went to get Pansy a glass of water as she stared off into space in front of her.

'I thought maybe it was because of Connor, but Draco says they aren't that serious. I said they looked pretty serious, and Connor said that Draco didn't do serious. But they really do look serious, don't you think?'

'Yeah,' Harry agreed, trying not to sound as bitter as he felt about it.

Harry didn't see them together often, but just friends they were certainly not. Connor being a Muggle might be Malfoy's hesitation to get serious; although, that wouldn't explain Malfoy's refusal to go home.

'Could you talk to him?'

'What?' Harry knew it had been coming. Why else would she come over to Harry's flat, but he still thought it was a ridiculous idea. Malfoy would never listen to him.

'I thought that maybe he couldn't tell me because he doesn't want to hurt me, and he won't have that problem with you.'

'Yeah,' Harry said, 'he enjoys hurting me, but he'll also refuse to speak to me.'

Pansy eyed him as though she didn't believe that. 'I asked Connor, but he says that Draco never talks about his past. Of course, that could be just because it would be illegal for him to do so. How do couples work around that?'

'Dean said it came as quite the shock to his father. I think they can't tell their spouse until after they're married.'

'Seems like something you should tell them before, don't you think?' Pansy was picking at her nails.

'Pansy,' Harry started gently. 'Are you thinking of telling Connor?'

'What if it's the only way?' She asked. 'Draco can't see that he won't lose him because of what he is if he never takes the chance. He can't see how we—if he never gives us a chance.'

Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulder and let her cry on his. Once she'd calmed down, he handed her the glass of water. After she drank it and was cleaning her face, Harry pointed out an obvious flaw in her logic.

'It can't be because of Connor, Pansy. It doesn't explain why he left, to begin with.'


	3. Chapter 3

Harry hadn't intended to talk to Malfoy at all. They'd nodded to each other as they always did when they saw each other. The only difference was Harry was generally on his way in while Malfoy was on his way out, and this time it was the opposite.

'Why'd you run?' Harry's words caught Malfoy on his way through his door.

Malfoy sighed and leant against his doorframe, still not looking at Harry. 'I saw a chance and took it.'

'But what were you running from?'

He looked at Harry before he answered, 'My life.' There was a lengthy pause as Harry still didn't understand. 'I don't expect you to understand, but it wasn't just the war and the fear of Azkaban. I—'

A door opened down the hall, reminding them how unsafe it was to talk in the open. When Malfoy stepped into his flat, Harry stepped toward him but didn't follow him in. He'd thought he'd lost him, again, but Malfoy popped his head back out and said,

'Well, aren't you coming?'

Harry followed him in. The flat was just like his, yet completely different at the same time. Harry didn't have much. His flat looked like the stereotype for a bachelor pad, but Malfoy's was clean and homely, like a better decorated version of the Burrow. It didn't say Malfoy to Harry at all. After looking around at a few of the pictures, Harry saw this was very much Connor's place.

Malfoy had gone into the kitchen and offered Harry a drink, returning as Harry found a picture of Connor with his arm around Malfoy, taken in that living room. Harry glanced between the picture and Malfoy, and said,

'Not serious, huh?' At Malfoy's perplexed looked Harry added, 'Pansy told me.'

'Ah, did she also tell you to talk to me?'

'Yeah.'

'Tea with my mother and best friends with Pansy Parkinson? Do you play Quidditch with Greg and Blaise as well?'

Harry swallowed—that had been where he was headed, but he figured if he said he was talking with Malfoy they'd probably forgive him for being late.

'Wow,' Malfoy snorted and crossed his arms across his chest.

'Do you want to come?'

Malfoy's eyes widen. 'What?'

'Do you want to see them?'

'Are you serious? That's where you were going?'

Harry shrugged and Malfoy groaned, rubbing his face. 'I can't; it's bad enough with Pansy—I just can't.'

'Why?' Harry asked. When Malfoy didn't answer he continued. 'My friends don't understand why I wanted to live here—in the Muggle world—so badly. But it's really simple: I get to be me. Just me. I might have to be Harry Potter every day at work, but I get to come home and go out to eat and got to bars just as myself. With how people treat your friends and your mother, I can understand not wanting to be around that.

'But you're saying that wasn't the reason you left, and I can't understand why or how you could even cut everyone who cares about you out of your life. You think that I can't understand, but what if I can? Maybe I can understand better than anyone else.'

'Has it ever occurred to you that I might be happy here?' Malfoy asked. 'That I don't want to live like I did before, and I just like this world better? It's—it would have been better for them to just accept my death. The Draco Malfoy they knew _is_ dead, and I don't want to bring him back. And just because you might understand part of it, doesn't mean you understand me. Yes, part of it is the same as you: I get to be me. That's why I left to begin with. To figure out who I even am, and now I know that who I am doesn't fit in that world.'

Harry studied Malfoy. Looking at him then he really did look like he wouldn't fit in the world he grew up in. His clothes, hair, and even posture were different.

'Do you think that won't accept you, if you're not a sarcastic asshole to everyone?'

'Oh,' Connor broke in as he entered through the front door. 'He's still a sarcastic asshole to everyone.'

'Connor,' Harry said at the same time as Malfoy; Harry with a nod and Malfoy in surprise.

'You staying a while, Harry?' Connor asked.

'No,' they both said together, again, then Harry continued, 'I was just on my way to play some football with some of Malfoy's old friends, and I thought he might like to see them again.'

'You played football, Draco? You never told me that.'

'Well,' Harry said with a smirk. 'He wasn't the greatest player, and he is kind of a sore loser.'

'I was an excellent Se—player, and I'm not a sore loser.'

Connor laughed, shaking his head at Malfoy. 'That I believe. Why don't we go, Draco?'

Harry kept his mouth firmly shut. His family had always known about Magic and other than subbing certain Muggle words for magical ones—like football for Quidditch—Harry didn't have much experience lying about the magical world. Connor couldn't come with, but he didn't have a good excuse for _why_.

'I don't think it's a good idea,' was all Malfoy said.

'Well,' Harry said. 'I should get going. I'm going to be late.'

Malfoy rolled his eyes. They both knew Harry could just Apparate there, saving himself the time Harry would have spent walking. So Harry did. With Connor facing Malfoy, his back was to Harry and the front door. Harry Apparated right next to the door with Malfoy's eyes on him—let Connor think the bang was just Harry shutting the door behind himself.

#

It was early Sunday morning when Harry was woken by a knock on his door. Maybe Malfoy was right about Pansy becoming one of his best friends. She was the only one to ever coming knocking at his door, he visited all his other friends at theirs.

'Just a second, Pansy,' Harry called out as he pulled a shirt over his head.

When he opened the door, it wasn't Pansy. 'Connor,' Harry said. 'Is everything all right?'

'Oh, yes, of course. I was just hoping I could speak with you for a moment.'

'Um, sure.' Harry gestured Connor in and closed the door behind him.

'Draco's sleeping,' Connor explained and Harry had to bite his tongue to keep from saying, _so was I._

'And he's very secretive about his past . . .' Connor's expression was serious as he trailed off waiting for Harry's input.

'And you want me to tell you about it?' When did Harry become the expert on Draco Malfoy? Everyone seemed to think he was. He was just the person who ran into him, not his best friend. 'Look, I don't know much about Malfoy.' That he was allowed to tell Connor, at least. 'We went to school together, but we weren't friends. Pansy was his best friend, and even she can't get out of him why he left or why he refuses to go home, even to visit. But he says he is happy now—he's happy with you. If that is what you needed to know.'

Connor forced a smile. 'He says. But it's hard to be with someone you don't know if you can trust.'

'You think you can't trust him?' Harry watched Connor full of interest then. First meeting Connor, Harry had no doubt that Malfoy would be happy with him. He was a friendly, stable, attractive man. Just the type that Harry was looking for himself. But Connor was a Muggle and Malfoy had been a Death Eater—and suddenly Harry was curious if Connor picked up on any underlying hate that Malfoy still might harbour for people like him.

'He holds back so much. I think a part of me always knew that I'd never get to keep Draco. There is a wall around him that he never let anyone through. His past is a guarded secret. Everything we "know" about him was simply speculation that he has never confirmed nor denied. The girls from the shop thought he was rich and disowned for his sexuality, and the way he never mentioned his family as well as his accent suggested it could be a possible reason. But now, I'm not so sure about that.

'But when Draco gets close to any story about his past, he pauses a lot. I can tell he is changing facts around. He never names many places. He admits to being from Wiltshire, but that is the only place I can get out of him. Even though he'll talk a lot about how none of the clothes at the shop are really his style, Draco can't name a shop that _is_ his style.

'Pansy might say he's always been like that, but I'm not sure if I can stay with someone who can only give me half of themselves.'

Harry swallowed. Just hiding the Wizarding world then. 'I think that perhaps, he is more himself now than he's ever allowed himself to be. That's why he came here and left everything behind; so he could be himself.' Harry knew he was talking more about himself than Malfoy, but Harry irrationally felt as if Connor were breaking up with him—because wouldn't be the same for Harry if he were dating a Muggle. There would always be that part of himself he'd have to hide—at least, until marriage.

As if reading Harry's thoughts, Connor said, 'You do it too. Not that thinking through your words is a bad thing, but you're holding something back. Pansy, too, but she is much more open than you and Draco.' He paused as though waiting for Harry to confess everything. 'What are you and Draco to each other, really? I don't believe you just went to school together, but I'm sure you weren't friends either. You both seem pretty honest about that. So what are you?'

It was such an abrupt change in conversation that Harry had to take a moment to catch up, but then he saw that it really hadn't been a change for Connor. He'd been leading Harry there from the beginning of his visit.

'What has he said to make you think that?'

'Said? Nothing.' Connor shook his head. 'It's the way you two act around each other. How you communicate without saying anything. The way you look at each other . . .' His stare was making Harry uncomfortable. There wasn't a way to explain what they were. How did one explain a seven year unfriendly relationship? Ex-rival was the best explanation.

'Like I said before: ex-rival. We didn't start off well and were in constant competition. We went to a public school and were in rival houses, played against each other in football ….' Were in opposite sides of a war where he joined a group of people who wanted to rule over people like Connor. But he did it to protect his family, and even with all their lives in his hands, he couldn't bring himself to kill anyone. There was no way to explain that part.

As Harry trailed off, Connor looked at him in disappointment. 'Are you still in love with him?'

'What? Why would you—where did that come from?'

'It's a simple question. If the answer is no—just say it.'

Harry opened his mouth to say no, but it wouldn't come out. His mind caught on the word _still_ , and then he started to explain that it wasn't a "still" but a "never". "I've ever been in love with Draco."

'Oh,' Connor said, 'now he is Draco.'

Then Harry stopped trying to explain himself altogether.

#

'Well,' Hermione said after Harry finished venting about everything that Connor had said, especially the "still love" part. 'He's right. It should be easy enough for you to just say no if you weren't in love with him.'

'If?'

Ron and Hermione shared a look and then Ron said, 'You still haven't denied it.'

Harry rubbed his forehead and then eyes, unable to believe what he was hearing. Even his own friends were against him.

'I'll just move,' Harry said. 'Then I won't run into them anymore. Problem solved.'

'So,' Ron said, 'still not denying it then.' But then his face lit up. 'If you're moving out, Ginny could use a roommate!'

'Honestly,' Hermione said. 'Ron, Ginny is with Luna. We know you don't like her, but Harry and Ginny are not happening.'

'Thank you, Hermione.' Harry paused. 'I think.' She was still against him on the whole Malfoy thing.

#

'This is why you should never get too serious with people.' Draco wasn't crying, he didn't cry at all. Draco knew from the beginning that he and Connor were too different; Connor knew it too.

Everything Draco owned fit in one box. He looked like he was sacked and switching offices, and _not_ moving back into the shop.

'I'm so sorry, Draco,' Willow let him not cry on her shoulder, and then Imogen said, 'He's still gay, Willow.' Draco wiped his face, he laughed at Willow's glare.

'I'm fine, really.' Then Potter walked through the door, and Draco wasn't sure about that anymore. Although they might not have been destined to be, and all the reasons Connor listed had been on Connor's mind for a while, there was no doubt in Draco's mind that this was all Potter's fault. Everything that had happened recently had been Potter's fault. Everything that had happened recently had been fault. If he hadn't shown up and guilted him into making that appearance at the Ministry of Magic, no one would ever have found out he was alive. Pansy wouldn't have come around poking holes into his relationship with Connor, and Connor could very well be jealous of Draco's non relationship with Potter if he'd never met him.

Draco glared at Potter as he approached the counter. 'I have no interest in anything you have to say.'

'This morning as I was packing up my flat, I ran into Connor.'

'Why were you packing up you flat?' Willow asked.

Potter blushed. 'I felt it was the best decisions, but apparently, it was too late.'

Draco didn't like the contemplative look on Imogen's face as she looked between Potter and Draco.

'If I'm honest, I feel partly responsible for what happened, and since I'm switching to bigger flat, anyway—I wondered if you were looking for a place to stay.'

Draco opened his mouth to say he was most certainly not, but Imogen beat him to it.

'Actually.' Imogen kicked his box of stuff that sat behind the counter from when he came in that morning. 'He is; got all his stuff with him if you want to add it to yours.'

'Imogen,' Draco hissed. 'What are you doing?'

'Helping you out since you've never been good at doing that for yourself.'

'I can't live with _Potter_!'

'Why not?' The three of them others said at the same time.

'Because . . . it's Potter.'

'Well, that explains everything,' Potter said. 'Look, I'm sorry that I caused so much trouble in your life. I didn't mean to, and had I known you lived there, I wouldn't have moved in. Just let me make it up to you.'

'You don't have much of a choice,' Imogen said.

Draco glared at her and then at Potter before nodding in defeat. He _didn't_ have much of a choice, because she wasn't going to let him have one. She was like that. Like when she offered him a job and a place to live to begin with.

Potter smiled. 'Great.'

Rolling his eyes, Draco picked up his box and shoved it in Potter's arms.

'I'll pick you up when you get off work.' And then Potter was gone.

Willow glanced at Draco, looking worried he might explode at any moment. 'Does he know when you get off work today?'

'I wouldn't be surprised,' Draco said with a sigh. 'He stalked me our sixth year at school.'

'Really?' Imogen said, studying Draco. She was more interested in Potter than Draco liked, even from the beginning. Draco thought it was just because he knew Draco from before, but that obviously wasn't the case.

Draco shrugged. He couldn't explain to them why Potter had done what he had without breaking the law, and he was angry with Imogen so her glares didn't affect him like they normally would.

Still, Potter arrived only fifteen minutes prior to the time Draco normally would have left. It was only Draco and Imogen at the time, and she didn't hesitate to question Potter after she let him in the shop. They'd already closed and Draco was counting the till.

'Good timing,' Imogen said with a smile, and then shut and locked the door behind him. 'He's almost done.'

Potter the fool smiled at her as if she were on his side.

'Draco tells me you used to stalk him.'

'What?' Potter coughed. 'Well, he was up to something and no one would believe me. For the record, I was right.'

'Ah, but you never actually caught me.'

'Everyone still knows I was right.'

Imogen cut in again, 'Up to something is rather vague.'

'Well.' Potter had the decency to blush. 'It's in the past. It doesn't matter anymore.'

'Hmm,' she said, and then took Draco's deposit back to the safe as Draco joined Potter by the front door.

Draco snapped at Potter, 'You better not have moved to a magical district.'

'Never,' Potter said with a laugh as they left the shop. 'It's just . . .' Potter walked over to a car and opened the door for Draco to get in it.

'You're joking right?'

'Have you never been in a car?'

Draco had but: 'Do you even know how to drive?'

Potter rolled his eyes. 'Yes, of course, I do.' He went to the driver's seat and got in, waiting for Draco. How far had Potter moved away? Oh would Draco get to work when Potter couldn't drive him? Finally, Draco got into the car. It would give them something to talk about on the, hopefully, short way there.


	4. Chapter 4

'Surprise!'

For the first time in Draco's life he was glad that he'd never had a lot of friends, because they were all gathered in the living room of Potter's new flat with smiles on their faces acting as if they were excited to see him. Draco for his part was frozen.

Dealing with Potter was one thing. He didn't care what he thought and he didn't owe him an explanation. Looking at all their faces all Draco could think was thank Merlin his mother wasn't among them.

'What are you doing here?' Draco tried to sound pleasantly surprised instead of shocked and a bit scared.

Pansy answered, of course. 'Welcoming you home, what else?'

'It's Potter's flat,' Draco pointed out. 'Where are his friends?'

For a moment, it was quiet. Potter didn't run away from home. His friends probably saw him every day.

'My friends,' Potter finally answered. 'Don't visit the Muggle world often.'

Draco laughed at that and then gestured to the group gathered before him. 'And you all do?'

Pansy had a fake smile plastered on his face as her grip tightened on her glass of wine.

'I don't mind the intrusion,' Potter said, saving her and taking the bottle out of her hand, while summoning more glasses. He handed one to Draco and then poured them both a drink.

After everyone was properly drunk, it wasn't uncomfortable anymore. Thankfully. They were laughing at old times and telling Potter stories he'd missed out at Hogwarts. Then telling him stories from before they'd even gone to Hogwarts.

'You all knew each other before Hogwarts?' Potter asked.

'Of course,' Astoria said. 'All our parents were friends.' Astoria was one of the people there that Potter had never met. He seemed more surprised that Draco had friends outside of Slytherins than he had the day he saw Draco living in the Muggle world. Draco couldn't think of any friends Potter outside of Gryffindor either, but everyone knew he'd dated that Ravenclaw.

'Well, Crabbe was my cousin,' Draco pointed out. 'But Crabbe and Goyle's fathers were best mates, so they were as well.' Goyle had been mostly quiet but nodded at that. 'My mother is good friends with Blaise's and the Greengrass' mums. Mary is their cousin through their father's side. We lived in a rather small community, Potter.' Draco coughed as cleared his throat as he remembered that they all still _did_. He'd been the only one to chose to leave.

Throughout the evening, Potter stayed by Draco's side. It was an odd thought of Potter being Draco's emotional support in the situation. At Hogwarts, it would have been the other way around. At one time or another, everyone of them had been Draco's emotional support to get through an encounter _with_ Potter.

When they left, they each hugged Draco goodbye. They'd see him soon, they said, or told him to Floo them. Muggle neighbourhood or not, Potter needed his fireplace connected to the Floo network for work. His office wasn't allowed to send owls, since it wasn't considered safe. Potter had made it a point to tell Draco that. Just in case he ever wanted to use it.

After shutting the door behind Pansy—who was the last to leave—Draco came back to sit on the sofa with Potter.

'Are you okay?' Potter asked. He looked as if he expected Draco to start a fight.

But looking around at all the boxes, Potter clearly hadn't been expecting company. Plus, Draco knew how Pansy could be. She'd gone through Potter's kitchen boxes herself looking for the glassware. Draco was surprised to discover that Potter owned wine glasses to being with.

'I'm fine.' Draco wasn't angry any more. Not after drinking so much and seeing his friends again. 'I just—after I left, it was supposed to be forever. I thought it would be better if they just never found out.'

'They care about you.'

'That's why I thought it would be better. I let them think I'd died. I knew that's what they'd think when I left.' Draco dropped his face into his hands. 'How do you forgive someone hurting you like that? It's impossible.'

'It's not, though,' Potter said, gesturing towards the door. 'They're all just happy you're alive.'

Draco looked up at Potter. 'Right now. They haven't had a chance for the anger to set in yet. Pansy's already had her piece with me, but I'm sure it will come from every one of them. And I still haven't explained it to a Pansy in a way she can understand. She's convinced I'm the same person that I was. She's calling it my gap year.'

Potter laughed. 'I know. She said that really you've always been rather dramatic. You couldn't just go on holiday for year—like she did by the way—you ran away from home.'

'I couldn't just go on holiday. I needed to be free, not a _break_.' Draco looked down at his hands and picked at his cuticles. 'Is it crazy that I'm still afraid to let them back into my life?'

'What are you afraid of?'

Draco tried to shrug as if it wasn't a big deal. 'It's been two years and I still haven't figured it out.'

'Haven't figured out what?'

'Who I am.'

'Ah.' Potter nodded. 'I gathered as much from the box. Actually, I gathered that from seeing the flat you were living in with Connor.' He covered Draco's hand with his own and stopped Draco from picking at his hands. 'So, how _did_ Connor win your heart?'

'You mean other than being gorgeous and just genuinely sweet and kind?' Draco paused. 'Sometimes just being yourself is enough to make everyone fall in love with you.'

Potter snorted. 'I wonder what that's like.'

'I'd have no idea.' And really Draco didn't. He was utterly confused what anyone saw in him.

When he was a kid, he thought it was because of who he was. A Malfoy. Just like his father had said. It was his parents' money and the power they had that attracted everyone to them. When they lost all respect during the war, Draco felt he'd lost all his friends as well. Even Crabbe was fighting with him near the end, and Goyle always followed where Crabbe went.

After meeting Willow and Imogen, he learned he was attractive. He'd never seen himself as such before. He knew he wasn't ugly, but he took a lot of time trying to make himself attractive and felt he was always failing at it. His father was big on improving faults which meant pointing them out. Draco had a lot of faults in his eyes and many of them were physical things he couldn't control. Like looking too much like his mother.

'The real question is: how did I win his?'

Potter's thumb brushed over the back of Draco's hand. He hadn't realised Potter had been still holding it. Draco looked up and saw Potter leaning in. He froze just before Potter's lips met his. When Draco didn't kiss back, Potter pulled away, letting go of Draco's hand and blushing.

'I'm sorry. I've had too much to drink. You just lost your boyfriend today, and here I'm being an arse—'

'I said your name,' Draco cut Potter off; he'd just wanted him to stop talking, but he hadn't meant for it to come out like that. He'd had far too much to drink as well.

'What?' Potter asked his face scrunched up in confusion.

'Merlin.' Draco rubbed his face, knowing it must be red from how hot the room suddenly seemed. 'When you first met him. That's why he'd known your name. That's why just everything—'

'I'd gathered you'd said something about me before.' Potter smirked. 'But what did you tell him? You'd said you hadn't told him anything. I knew you were lying, but still.'

Draco watched him with wide eyes. He couldn't possibly be that thick. Swallowing, Draco prepared to spell it out for him. He drank the rest of his wine.

'It was just after we started going out. We weren't even officially together yet. It just slipped out, and then I apologised, letting him make excuses for me—like he always did—and we moved on. It never happened again, but he'd tease me about it with every _Harry_ we met—wondering if he was the one that had broken my heart. And then you actually showed up.'

Apparently, Draco's explanation didn't help Potter put anything together, he asked,

'What are you talking about?'

'Merlin, Potter. I said your name while we were _together_.'

When the information finally made it into Potter's head, he launched himself at Draco, kissing him again.

'That is so . . .' Unable to find the right word he kissed Draco again. In between kissing him, Harry continued, 'You said: Harry. Fuck. Call me Harry.'

All Draco could do was nod and try to respond to Harry's kissing as frantic as it was. 'Okay,' Draco said when he could breathe. 'Okay . . . Harry, okay.'

#

Draco woke up with a headache, wrapped in a blanket still on the sofa. He could smell Potter cooking something in the kitchen, and once he sat up, he saw a potion sitting on the table next to his empty wine glass.

'What's this?'

Potter came out of the kitchen and said, 'Hangover cure. Breakfast will be ready soon.'

Draco drank the potion, gagging but glad for the moment to have a bit of magic back. It was the first magical thing he'd seen from Harry. A few minutes later, he carried the plates with eggs, sausage, and crisp potatoes out. He even took two trips to bring them juice.

'You don't have to do that from me.'

'Do what?' Potter asked, smiling. 'Cook breakfast?'

'Potter,' Draco said with a sigh.

His smile faded.

'Fuck, don't. I'm fucking this up, aren't I?'

Potter smiled again, but it wasn't as bright as his first one had been. 'You said you'd call me Harry. And, I seriously don't know what you were talking about.'

'Oh.' Draco took a breath. 'Harry, right. It'll take some getting used to. I mean about the magic. You don't have to hide your magic from me.'

Potter's smile brightened then. 'I'm not hiding my magic from you, Draco. I was raised in the Muggle world. This is just how I am. I tend to use my hands first and forget that I have a wand for the little things.'

He leaned in and kissed Draco slowly as if he wasn't sure whether Draco would push him away.

'Good morning,' Potter said when he pulled back.

'Good morning.'

All Potter had planned for the day was to unpack, but Draco had to work midday. He helped Potter unpack in the morning until his shift, although he felt more like a distraction than help. Potter kept stopping to push him against things and kissing him.

When Draco had to leave to go into the shop, he was unable to keep a smile off his face. It was just him and Imogen for the beginning of his shift. She smirked as he entered and he'd forgotten all about that he was going to tell her off for forcing him to live with Harry. Catching himself he started blushing just realising everything that had changed since he last saw her.

'Oh my God, you _slept_ with him?' she asked as if she had any right to be scandalised at the thought when he knew damn well that's what she'd been hoping for. 'That happened faster than I anticipated.'

'My friends from home decided to throw me a surprise party.'

Her eyebrows rose, hiding beneath her bangs. 'So I should expect your notice soon then I take it.'

'What?'

'If you go home, you won't need to work anymore, would you? At least, not just at some shop. You could go to Uni.'

'I actually like my job, and I'm not going home.'

'Hmmm,' she said. 'Have you seen your mother yet? Was she at the party?'

'No.' But there was no denying that he'd have to. He couldn't see all his friends and still not go see his mother, but he wasn't looking forward to it. She'd be the most hurt out of them all.


	5. Chapter 5

Draco almost didn't recognise her. His mother had cut her hair and was wearing Muggle clothes. But she was sitting with Potter drinking a cup of tea. She stood as soon as she saw Draco enter the room, but didn't make her way over to him.

'I thought if you're so reluctant to come home that I'd just come visit you.' She wrung her hands as she spoke and her voice was soft as if she thought he'd run if she spoke too harshly. To be fair, he did feel the urge to run. It was a stark contrast to how he remembered her. Even when he was young, she was cold and forceful when she spoke to him.

Everything had changed for her as well. Draco hadn't bothered to learn how long it had been since his father had died. She might have been penniless for a while in between his death and finding out that Draco wasn't actually dead after all.

Draco nodded as he stepped toward them and Potter rose from his seat offering it to Draco. He grabbed Draco's arm as he moved passed and whispered in his ear.

'Do you need me to stay?'

Already a dutiful boyfriend.

He shook his head, and then Potter disappeared leaving Draco with his mother who'd retaken her seat. She'd been crying. Or maybe she was about to cry, but that she had been before Draco showed up made more sense to him.

She began to prepare his tea for him. Like Pansy thinking he was the same person he'd been before. She filled his cup to the top and added nothing to it. It was how she took hers so how he'd been expected to take his even as a child. Taking the cup he drank it down so that he could add sugar.

'I take tea with sugar now,' he said just to fill the silence as if it weren't obvious that was what he was doing.

It was also an odd sort of rebellion. When he was around his parents before he ran away he never defied them. Not even to put sugar in his tea. He had to run away to grow strong enough for even this.

'I'm sorry,' they both said at the same time. Draco laughed nervously, but she started to cry, again.

'What are you sorry for?' Draco asked.

She shook her head as she tried to gain control enough to speak. Once she had taken a few sips of tea she seemed ready to speak again.

'For a great many things. Most of which you probably don't even remember. But mostly for whichever thing it was that made you want to leave me.'

Draco closed his eyes, willing himself not to start crying with her. 'I didn't want to leave you.'

It wasn't just her; it was everyone, but that wasn't going to make it unless painful for her to hear.

'I just needed to be alone. I need to feel in control of my own life.' Which was ironic as he hadn't been, even after he left. His life was still at the whims of the people around him. 'You weren't the only one who had expectations of me. I just thought it was the best for everyone if they could forget about me and move on.'

She just stared at him, looking unable to speak.

'How have you been?' Draco asked trying to move the conversation along. 'Potter says you have tea with him every Sunday.'

Nodding she gestured to the tea and then Draco realised it was Sunday. He'd never questioned where they'd taken tea on Sundays. He'd assumed it was the Manor.

'Oh, of course.'

'He was very helpful after the war,' she said. 'He was very upset over your death.'

'He was?'

'Some would say distraught.' His mother looked away from him and out the window. 'He'd saved your life twice that day and then to find out that you'd died anyway. We held a small mass for you and Vincent; he cried more than I did.' She looked back at Draco. 'Did you apologise to him?'

'I—I hadn't thought.'

'At any rate it's obvious that he's already forgiven you. He's quick to forgive. He was probably just glad you were alive. But he also seems to understand your motivations better than the rest of us.'

Draco watched her carefully. 'Do _you_ forgive me?'

'Oh darling, I'm your mother. I did the moment I found out you were alive.'

After wiping the tears off his face, he tried again. 'What have you been up to?'

'Oh, well.' His mother looked up as she gathered her thoughts and then began listing everything off. 'I have tea with Harry on Sundays, and I'm living with my sister and helping her raise her grandson. She's all alone now too, you know.'

Draco shook his head. He hadn't thought. He hadn't thought about them as much as he could keep himself from thinking about them. As his mother continued talking about Teddy and all the little things he was doing, Harry came back and joined them for tea. It was hard not to think about Harry crying over his death after just finding out about it, but their conversation stayed away from the war and Draco's not-death. Harry was apparently Teddy's godfather, and he loved to hear everything he was up to. Being Draco's mother meant she loved to compare Teddy to when Draco was his age.

When Draco's mother left, she kissed them both on the cheek, and Harry promised he'd come visit Teddy soon.

'So that was Sunday tea,' Draco said.

'Yeah.'

'You spend every Sunday listening to stories about me since when I was baby?'

Harry blushed, and then looking away from Draco walked over to the sofa. 'We mostly talk about Teddy, but you come up sometimes.'

'My mother said you cried over me.'

'Merlin.' Harry ran his hands through his hair. 'It was a difficult time. I'd lost a lot of people.'

'But did you cry over me?' Draco came to sit next to Harry making it impossible for him to escape.

'Yes.'

'I'm sorry.' He took Harry's hand and squeezed it between both of his. 'I've apologised to everyone except you. I never thought you'd have a reason to have been upset about my death.'

Harry looked at him and brush his thumb across Draco's cheek with his free hand. 'Really? Know anyone else who'd saved your life more than once.'

'Yes,' Draco said, seriously. 'Snape.'

Smiling, Harry nodded. 'He cared for you a great deal.'

'You think he won't anymore?' Draco swallowed, knowing the only logical answer to that question.

'He died.' Harry put his arm around Draco and pulled him close.

Draco had thought about Harry saving him from the fire and wondered why he'd bothered. He'd settled on the idea that leaving someone to die would have haunted him just like Vincent's death haunted Draco. That he cared about Draco hadn't crossed his mind.

'I didn't think that anyone would miss me that much.' And certainly not Harry of all people. That he'd sit with his friends and family and cry over his death. That he'd sit with them listening to all the parts of Draco's life that Harry wasn't there for; learning more about him after his not-death than he knew from their actual interactions.

Harry kissed him instead of saying anything to that.

But Draco knew that as impossible as it seemed, even Harry had missed him.

#

Teddy was running around the table laughing with his toy broomstick. Harry watched Draco fidget next to his aunt. He'd never met her before and Harry could tell he was nervous. That and this was the most magic Draco had been around since the war.

Draco still had nightmares from the war—Harry did from time to time but not as often as Draco—and Harry couldn't help to wonder how Connor dealt with them, what Draco told him about them. Draco said they'd only come back because of learning about Professor Snape's death. Harry had eventually told him the whole of it. One night after Harry's own nightmare. It was the one of Snape's death so it seemed appropriate.

Snape died for Draco, instead of Draco.

There was no other way to look at it, and Harry felt he deserved to know. Voldemort would have gone after Draco if he'd known he was the true master of the elder wand.

Still it made Harry feel guilty he helped cause more nightmares.

Narcissa began telling a story about how Draco tried to climb the rose bushes in her garden when he was three, and Andromeda talked about how her daughter would try to jump down the stairs—just one more stair at a time until she broke her arm. Draco looked at Harry and shook his head.

'What?' Harry mouthed at him, and then pulled him up and out into the hall so they could have a moment alone. Harry kissed him and then asked again, 'What?'

'Nothing, just . . .'

'Just, what?'

'Sometimes I'm not sure if you're interested in me or just all the stories you hear about me.'

He was still having trouble figuring out who he was and it made him insecure in his relationships.

'They're all part of you, Draco. Everyone had different pieces of themselves. Everyone acts a little different depending on who they are with that the time.' Harry reassured him. 'But my favourite part of you, if it helps you at all, is this part.' Harry kissed him, again. 'The part that only I get to see, and touch, and kiss.'

'Draco, Draco, look, look,' Teddy called, and Harry followed Draco back into the living room. Teddy loved to see how high he could go.

'I'm watching,' Draco said, and Harry squeezed Draco's shoulder and leaned down to whisper in his ear, 'you're doing fine.'

Draco looked up at him just so he could see him roll his eyes. Harry didn't care. He loved being the supportive boyfriend, whether Draco mocked him for it or not. Draco needed the support, whether he admitted it aloud or not.

People never came back from the dead. Moving next to door to Draco had been an rare opportunity. One he'd almost ran from when he thought he'd have to watch Draco happily in love with Connor for the rest of the year.

Harry knew it was an opportunity of a lifetime that he was there with Draco, and he wasn't going to let him get away again.


End file.
